


No Time in Dreams

by nojoking



Category: Damar Series - Robin McKinley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nojoking/pseuds/nojoking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More practice with Mathin in the desert, with dreams</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Time in Dreams

It was late – yet again Harry could not sleep. Lying in the dark, she could hear the gentle sounds of Mathin breathing and the louder noise of Narknon’s snuffly semi-snore as she lay curled around Harry’s feet.  
  
In the distance, she could hear small desert noises – some of them were the rocks cooling down as the heat of the day oozed into near-freezing cold. Something small scuttled at the edge of her hearing, she sat up and even that noise stopped. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck, under her chin, in her leg where it pressed on a rock, it felt like every part of her body was tingling, as if small sparks were running up and down her legs and arms.  
  
Her head ached. Not like it had before, this time the ache was a steady pressure as if her brain was bigger inside her skull than usual. Nor was it the pulsing throb that had occurred when she first saw Corlath at the Residency.  
  
Suddenly, her hand was at her mouth offering a mall piece of the herb-bread that Mathin had said would ease her. She had refused it at first, but then tried a piece and found it strangely satisfying. Once more, she bit and chewed. After a while her head hurt a little less and she slept.  
  
Then the dreams began. Never enough for complete remembrance, never enough to wake startled and jolted awake. But insistent, pressing, testing, pushing Harry into old memories.  
  
Her grandmother’s voice ‘Someday, sweetie, you’ll learn what it is to be different. To be unlike those around you. Some will tell you that your sort of difference is wrong, that you are somehow wrong. Others will see that your difference is in the strength within. That you carry power like a weapon …. Or perhaps your power will be a weapon. It depends on how and where you grow. After all, in the soft gardens of the south, mostly only flowers grow. The north is not like that. Perhaps you will remember.’  
  
And, for a while, Harry held onto those memories.  
  
Another dream had the red-haired woman again. “I know that they did not trust me. I know many do not trust you. I know how little I trusted myself. And I know how little you trust yourself. But I trust you. I know that you will do what is right and when it is right. Remember when all seems black and you feel all alone – I, Aerin Dragon-Slayer and sometime Legend, do trust you, my yellow-haired descendant. Go well and do well. And I love you.”  
  
Then it was morning and she had no time to be a southern flower. No time to do more than bind up that yellow hair. Cut, slash, swivel, watch, parry, step, slide, press, advance, cut and repeat. No time.  
  
And still Mathin pressed her for more control, more speed, more accuracy. Never did she hear a ‘good’ or a ‘well done’. Not until the first time she made a mark on his leather padding just above the wrist.  
  
“Getting there, perhaps there is enough time.”  
  
To Harry, that felt so very positive that within moments, she had cut and passed his guard twice more.  
  
“Hah, so encouragement encourages you to speed and skill – Hah.” And Mathin spent the next few minutes, painfully, showing Harry how much she had still to learn.  
  
As she rested, perched on her favoured small rock, she managed a small smile in Mathin’s direction while he prepared their midday rations.  
  
“The trained Rider has the correct balance between skill and confidence. I have seen skilled warriors easily beaten because they actually did not believe that they were good. I have seen less confident ones succeed because they knew they could not be beaten. Conversely, I have seen confident ones badly beaten because their skill was not adequate. As I say, balance. And you are growing well at both. I now look forward to your displays at the trials.”  
  
…. And previously he had said ‘I will watch your efforts at the trials’ and ‘It will be interesting how she would do at the trials’. To look forward to her display made her feel so much better, no not ‘better’ …… more certain was the only word she could produce.  
  
“Well, if so, let’s get back to practice until you think my balance is as good as it will get in the time we have.”  
  
“I will only advise that even after we leave this dusty spot, you will still have much to learn and I cannot say when and how soon you will need your skill and confidence to be at its best. All that I can say further is what Corlath told us riders ‘A hard and nasty time is coming towards us from the north’. But he could not say how short was the time. But I feel that your arrival is a good omen – and we surely need one.”  
  
He snapped to his feet, “So come, my good omen, and show me your tricks and skills.”  
  
The next day, they set off to the city and the trials. And now there was no time - not even for dreams.


End file.
